


Forever's Too Good To Be True | Yu-Gi-Oh! Christmas 2019

by DisposableVillain



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Aged Up, And Ryou is trans, Angst, Bisexual, Cancer, Christmas, Christmas Story, Drunk Sex, Engagement, Engagement Rings, F/F, F/M, Gay, Lesbian, M/M, Mehi - Freeform, My girl is back!, One Shot, Possible Continuation, Post-Canon, Presents, Sex, Short Story, Soft sex, Support, Trans, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Transgender, because i'm projecting onto him, cancer doesn't know it's christmas, cherry vodka, cute shit, married, mlm, movie marathon, no one dies, obviously, post-canon AU, sweet christmas presents, wlw, yet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-19 02:02:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22036762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisposableVillain/pseuds/DisposableVillain
Summary: "What do you want, Malik?""I want to celebrate Christmas."Malik is tired of his birthday and the anniversary, and everything in December being so damn dark and depressing. Bakura is confused about what's happening, but he sure as hell wants to do everything in his power to make sure his boyfriend is happy.[ Thiefshipping l Euroshipping l Puzzleshipping l Glamourshipping ] [ Trans Yami Malik l Trans Ryou Bakura ]
Relationships: Bakura Ryou/Kaiba Seto, Kujaku Mai | Mai Valentine/Nosaka Miho, Mutou Yuugi/Yami Yuugi, Yami Bakura/Marik Ishtar
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Forever's Too Good To Be True | Yu-Gi-Oh! Christmas 2019

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys. For those of you who don't know, I'm Elliot! Welcome to my Christmas story for 2019! This is technically five days late, but I didn't celebrate Christmas until the 30th this year, so this is on time for me, and I decided it would be better to actually get it well done for today than rush it for the 25th. Anyway, this is basically the result of me wanting Malik to have a happy winter holiday and completely failing in not including angst, so here you go. Hope y'all enjoy. Sorry I haven't been very active this semester; I had work and classes and essays and stress. Hopefully I'll be better in the new year. Anyway, for anyone new, please take a look at some of my other stories and I hope you enjoy!

**Content Warnings: Cancer (lung cancer, stage three), sex, panic attacks, discussions of Kul Elna**

* * *

“Hey, honey.” Malik dropped next to Bakura on the couch. “You know how you love me?”

Bakura scowled and paused his game to look up at Malik. “That feels like an incredibly loaded question.”

“Why would it be loaded?” Malik toyed with one of his earrings.

Bakura eyed him for a moment. He was only dressed in a skirt and a nice shirt, so he wasn’t planning on going out somewhere fancy and stuffing Bakura into a tight suit like a fucking doll. His hair was loose, so he wasn’t trying to steal Bakura’s game. He was wearing his kohl and make-up, so he wasn’t kicking Bakura out for his birthday just yet. Bakura pressed the play button and resumed his game. “What do you want, Malik?”

Malik watched Bakura play for a minute. Assassin’s Creed: Origins. Not his favourite, but Bakura was in the mood to relive his days of stabbing the aristocracy and stealing from rude merchants, at least a little. It wasn’t the same, but it was a small fuck you to the magnificent Pharaoh that he could still do it.

“I want to celebrate Christmas.”

Bakura choked and his character died doing a leap of faith gone wrong because of it. Game Over. Resume from last saved file?

Bakura left the option on screen and discarded the XBox controls to turn and face Malik. He wasn’t looking at Bakura anymore. Instead he had pulled his feet up onto the couch, knees hugged to his chest, and was watching the window. It was cold out, but bright and sunny, and there were fortunately no signs of snow yet.

“You… want to celebrate Christmas?” Bakura repeated. “As in go out, fancy dinner, chocolates, that kind of bullshit?”

Malik shook his head and cleared his throat. “I… I was actually thinking more the Western Christmas. A tree, presents and all that.”

It took Bakura a minute to process, like his brain was in the buffering but still somewhat working stage of a faulty video game. You could move around and jump and shit, but the map wouldn’t load, so there was nothing but blue around and you kept running into invisible things because the map wouldn’t load. “You,” he began, “want to celebrate Christmas.”

“Yes.”

“With a tree and lights and presents and a God you don’t even believe in.”

“Yes.”

Bakura shook his head. “Why?”

Malik sighed, fidgeting with his left earring even more now that Bakura was questioning his motive. “Does there have to be a reason? I just want to try it.”

“That is a reason,” Bakura pointed out. “Not a very plausible one, but a reason. So why?” He looked at the screen. He hadn’t resumed the game yet, so it just stayed on the faded image of his character lying eagle-spread on the ground, surrounded by a pool of blood.

“I’m just tired,” Malik whispered, “of not being able to be happy. It’s dark and cold, and everything hurts, and I want- I need something to brighten it up a little.”

After a moment, Bakura butted Malik’s shoulder with his head. “Okay. We’ll get Ryou to come with us to get a tree tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to disturb him-”

“He’ll enjoy it. He wants to decorate Seto’s mansion anyway, so it’ll give him an excuse to get even more shit.”

Malik’s shoulders seemed to relax. He rested his head on Bakura’s. “Thank you.”

Bakura shrugged, ignoring the dull heat rising to his cheeks. Damn it, they’d been dating for over a year, and he still fucking blushed every time Malik did something like that. “No worries.” He ran his tongue over his teeth. The awkward part was due. “What about your birthday?”

Malik shook his head. “It’s just another day,” he said. It sounded like a lie, but more to himself than to Bakura. He was still trying to pretend that he was fine.

“Are you sure?”

“Mm.” Malik closed his eyes. “I want to push through it.”

“Okay.” Bakura kissed Malik’s shoulder this time. He was wearing lighter shirts inside recently - expensive silk and cotton t-shirts and tops that were breathable and easier for his back. “You can always change your mind.”

“Mm.”

“And you can book in with your therapist.”

“Trust me, she’s been earning her money recently,” Malik muttered.

“What did she make of this?” The whole Western Christmas idea thing.

It was one of those moments where, if it was anyone else, Malik would probably have either slipped back and pushed Namu to the front, or just given one of Namu’s famous smiles. But it wasn’t anyone else. It was Bakura, and Bakura hadn’t dealt with one of Namu’s smiles in a long time.

“She thinks it could work,” Malik replied, “but that I need to be careful. Go easy on myself.”

“Sounds good.” Bakura picked up his controller and switched settings on the TV until he had managed to pull up Netflix. “Well if you want to celebrate Christmas, nothing works better than a classic American film.”

Malik scowled. “No.”

“It’s glorious.”

“Bakura.”

“You’ll hate it.”

“I swear to fucking Min-”

“It has revenge, torture, theft, and an anti-capitalist agenda.”

“-if you say what I think you’re going to say, I will kill you-”

“Home Alone.” Bakura laughed as he typed it into the search bar. Unfortunately for Malik, Netflix had put it back on the American site, and Bakura had a VPN.

“You’re a fucking bastard.” Malik swiped at the control, but it was more for show than anything else. He made no massive effort to steal it from Bakura, despite the fact that he’d resisted watching ‘mainstream crap’ like Home Alone since they’d met.

“Yeah, bet you wish you’d killed me on that pier now, huh?” Bakura pressed play.

Malik tangled his fingers in Bakura’s hair to pull him up for a kiss, his grip tight. “Kinda,” he whispered against Bakura’s lips, “but where would be the fun in that when I get to torture you for years this way, honey?”

“You say, as I force you to watch Home Alone in 2019.” Bakura snorted as Malik relaxed his grip, switching to gently scratching Bakura’s scalp. Gods, that felt good. He let his eyes slip closed for an instant, not paying attention to the opening credits. “It’s a rite of passage,” he mumbled. “If we’re doing this, we’re going the whole fucking way.”

Malik giggled, continuing his gently playing with Bakura’s hair. “Whatever you say, Bakhure.”

It was a name Bakura rarely heard anymore, by his own choice of course, and it made him nuzzle closer to Malik. It was just easier to go by Ryou’s old name, especially since he’d changed it to get away from his father. Yet it warmed him somehow when Malik said it, no matter how much Bakura insisted he didn’t mind and that they sounded the same. The slight difference rolled off Malik’s tongue and danced in Bakura’s head.

They both struggled around Christmas, for various reasons. Maybe this would be of more benefit than Malik thought.

* * *

Even with Malik insisting that he would push through his birthday, Bakura went to Ryou’s for the night on the 22nd to give him space, and didn’t expect to hear from him until Christmas eve.

Which is why he was, understandably, very, very pissed about being woken before ten on the morning of Malik’s birthday by Ryou knocking.

“Bakura,” he called through the door. “Come out. Malik’s here.”

“I’m gay!”

“Not what I meant, and I already knew that.”

Bakura groaned and pulled the covers up over his head. Maybe if he hid, Malik would fuck off.

The door opened, and someone yanked the blankets off Bakura in one tug. Bakura jolted up to glare at his offender, and Seto smirked at him. “Get up.”

“I could have been naked.”

“Yes, like I’ve never seen you naked before.”

“Oh, and what would your husband say to that?”

“That you need to stop wandering around naked while getting snacks in the middle of the night,” Ryou responded, stepping out from behind Seto with a smile. “Come on. We’re going out.”

Bakura’s glare switched to Ryou. “Malik’s at home.”

“Nope. He’s in the kitchen with Mai having coffee.”

“Bullshit.” Bakura swung his legs over the bed. He had to hop off for his feet to actually touch the ground. One of the few failings of being returned to his old body - he was now the shortest of the group with the exception of Yugi and Atem. “Next you’ll be telling me the Pharaoh’s dweebs are there too.”

Ryou’s eyebrows arched. “Well Yugi’s there.”

Oh, this he had to see. Bakura pulled on a robe and darted from the room, down towards the kitchen. He emerged to see Yugi sitting up on the counter and laughing at some joke Mai made while Malik sipped his coffee.

Malik’s eyes flickered to Bakura and he smiled. “He awakens.”

“The fuck is happening?” Bakura rubbed his eyes. “Why are you fucking assholes here so early?”

“We want to do some last minute Christmas shopping,” Mai replied, shooting Bakura a wink. “Malik invited us.”

Bakura stared at Malik. Mai, he understood. But Yugi?

Malik looked away. “Miho and Atem are going to meet us in town, right?”

Yugi nodded. “Yeah. Atem had an appointment today, but he wanted to come. It’s one of his good days.”

Ah. That was why. Yugi had bags the size of Malik’s gold collection - and probably just as heavy - hanging from his eyes, but he seemed happier than Bakura had seen him in a while.

Bakura pursed his lips. “You could have warned me. Or stopped by at a more reasonable time.”

Malik glanced at the clock. “It’s nine forty, honey. Go get dressed.”

Bakura grumbled and flipped his boyfriend off but made his way back to his room without much complaint. If Malik was up for it, fine. They could try it. He met Seto and Ryou on his way back and Ryou beamed at him.

“Getting ready?”

“Yeah, fuck you.”

“You wish, parasite,” Ryou giggled.

Bakura stuck out his tongue and swatted lightly at Ryou, but kept walking. Maybe he could get some expensive coffee on Malik’s card if he was fast enough. Mm, the Butler’s café had a salted caramel latte that he wanted to try. It was five hundred yen, but Malik could afford to spend that on a coffee. Hell, so could Ryou and Seto, but Bakura had an excuse to use Malik’s card.

He exchanged his robe and yesterday’s boxers for a fresh pair, jeans, a Venom t-shirt, his favourite red hoodie, and combat boots. No he didn’t just like the hoodie because Malik got it for him and it reminded him of his past. Of course not. He just happened to like red.

Shut up.

When he returned, Malik drained the end of his coffee and placed his mug in the sink. “Right, let’s go.”

Despite Seto’s insistence that they take the limo, Ryou managed to convince him to take two separate, smaller cars that would draw less attention, so Bakura ended up alone in one car with Malik, while Yugi, Mai, Ryou and Seto piled into another.

Bakura put up the divider so they could talk in private without fear of the driver eavesdropping. “Are you doing okay?”

“Mhm!” Malik smiled at him.

It took Bakura a second to make sure that it was indeed Malik who was fronting. “You know it’s okay if you’re not, right?”

“Of course I know that,” Malik huffed. “I’m fine.” He picked at his cream tights. They still bothered his sensory issues, but from experience, less so than pants did.

“If you’re sure.” Bakura leaned into him and kissed Malik’s shoulder. “But did you have to invite fucking Atem?”

Malik snorted, smile a touch weaker and more sincere than his initial one. “Come on, you know he’s going through a hard time.”

“Yes, yes, so were my family, but apparently a little murder is off the table when you’re going through a hard time.” Bakura rolled his eyes.

Malik chuckled and ran his fingers through Bakura’s hair. He had grown more used to long hair while in Ryou’s body, so he had grown it out upon his return. Now it hung around his mid-back rather than his shoulders.

“Can I plait it?”

“If you want.” Bakura’s eyes slid closed. He could never get enough of the feel of Malik’s hands in his hair. He dozed as Malik braided his hair until the car slowed to a halt, and Malik tied the braid with a band from his own hair.

“How’s that, honey?” Malik took a photo and showed it to Bakura.

Bakura snorted. “It’ll ruin my image, but it looks good.”

“Oh, your image of a badass thief? I think you ruined that when you fell asleep in my arms.” Malik smiled and fixed his own hair, now fluttering around his shoulders. He had managed to shower and wash his hair. Maybe he really was doing okay.

“Yeah, whatever.” Bakura pulled his braid over his shoulder and climbed out of the car.

Malik knocked on the divider and thanked the driver before following Bakura out of the car. He smoothed out wrinkles from his dress - a crimson number with gold trimmings.

Bakura eyed it as though only seeing it now. He sort of was. Seeing it properly, anyway. “Special occasion?”

Malik hummed and looked down. “It was my warmest dress and it looks Christmas-y.” He smiled at Bakura.

Lying bitch. Those were Bakura’s colours - he wouldn’t wear them for no reason. Bakura scanned him. Gold clips in his hair, gold heels, gold nails with red swirls. He’d foregone most of his gold jewellery with the exception of his earrings and necklace, but he’d worn more make-up than usual. Foundation and highlights, a golden smoky eyeshadow, rich lipstick, and sharp kohl.

“Why are you so dressed up then?”

“I just felt like it.” Malik pulled his coat on - a thick, black one.

The other car pulled up beside them and everyone climbed out. Ryou in a Scream Christmas jumper, Mai in an oversized turtleneck and skinny jeans, Seto in a three-piece navy suit as normal, and Yugi in a BNHA t-shirt and yesterday’s jeans.

“Where are we meeting Atem and Miho?” Malik asked.

Yugi smiled. “They said they’d meet us at Brown Thomas. I need to pick something up there.”

“Yes!” Mai cheered. “They have a great sale on make-up at the moment, and I have a palette I’ve been looking for.”

“I need to get some good cosplay make-up for Todoroki too,” Ryou admitted.

Bakura groaned but pulled his coat tighter around him. “Fine, just as long as I can sit down and not have to stare at make-up for half an hour with you.”

“That’s fine.” Malik took Bakura’s arm. “Let’s go.”

Thankfully, there were seats in Brown Thomas, and Bakura was able to play on his phone as the others wandered. Soon, Miho and Atem arrived, Miho pushing the former Pharaoh in his wheelchair.

Bakura looked up as Atem was wheeled over to him. “You look like shit.”

Atem grinned. “Good to see you too, Bakhure.” He did. Look like shit, that is. His hair was almost gone, even though he’d cropped his dreadlocks upon his diagnosis, and now he was wearing a purple scarf. His cheeks were round and he had put on weight from the chemo, and his eyes were a touch more vacant than the last time Bakura had seen him.

Bakura grunted and looked down at his phone again. Lung cancer, stage three. They had caught it at two. It was almost funny really. The mighty Pharaoh dying of such a mundane, common illness.

Of course, Seto was working on cures, putting money into cancer research now more than ever, but it wouldn’t be fast enough. They all knew it, except maybe Yugi.

Miho squeezed Atem’s shoulder and wandered off to meet her girlfriend. Atem watched her go for a second before looking at Bakura again. “It’s someone’s birthday, right? It’s… It’s…” He frowned. It was either the medication or the illness dulling his memory, and Bakura didn’t know which to blame.

“It’s Malik’s,” he said. “Don’t bring it up, or I’ll cut off your balls.”

“Right.” Atem hit his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Right, I won’t mention it. But why is he out?”

Bakura shook his head, looking up. Malik was gushing over a necklace with Mai a few stands away. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Yugi ran up to Atem and kissed him, smiling. “How was your appointment, habib?”

“It was good, aibou.” Atem lifted his head to steal a kiss from Yugi. “How are you?”

“Great now that you’re here.” He did seem more relaxed, his face with a touch more colour in it than at the mansion.

Bakura kept his gaze down. It was hard to watch. He didn’t like the Pharaoh, but Yugi he could tolerate. And even still, he wouldn’t wish something like this on anyone. Watching their partner die.

“Come on. I found something I think you’ll like.” Yugi moved to push Atem’s wheelchair further into the shop, and he mouthed a ‘thank you’ to Bakura over his shoulder.

There was nothing to thank him for, but Bakura didn’t object. Yugi was just like that. Soon, though not soon enough, they left Brown Thomas and wandered around city centre. They tried to stay inside once they got to the mall, both for Atem and themselves with the weather being so cold. Bakura found himself laden with bags even though he himself had only bought one or two things, but he kept his complaints to a minimum. Seto was also carrying bags, and it was somewhat worth it to see Malik smiling a Malik smile that day.

When they finally went to the cars, Atem, Yugi, Miho and Mai climbed into one, living closer to one another than to Malik and Bakura or Ryou and Seto. It was darkening, the sun painting the grey landscape with gold and blood.

“Do you want to come back to our place for Christmas?” Ryou offered as they all climbed into the second car. “We don’t mind.”

Malik smiled but shook his head. “Thank you, Ry, but we’re okay.”

“Are you sure?” Ryou looked worried. Of course he was. Bakura always stayed with him for Malik’s birthday and returned to a thrashed bedroom, sometimes a thrashed apartment.

“We’ll be fine.” Malik kissed Ryou’s cheek, careful not to smudge his lipstick. “Be sure to take your meds tonight, yeah?”

“I will, I will.” Ryou waved him off. “Seto never lets me forget anyway.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Seto snorted, shaking his head.

Ryou rolled his eyes, but he was smiling again. “Okay, but come over tomorrow to watch a Christmas film with us, yeah?”

“We’ll see.” Bakura pursed his lips. “Maybe I won’t be in the mood for luxurious food, a literal theatre in a house, and a fucking glorious bath.”

“Parasite.” Ryou gave Bakura’s shoulder a shove.

“You love me.” Bakura winked at him as the car pulled up outside Malik’s apartment block.

“Debatable.” Ryou leaned in to hug Bakura, and then Malik. “Have a good night. And thank you for playing nice with Atem today.”

Bakura shrugged and climbed out, with Malik close behind him. “See you nerds tomorrow.”

Seto rolled his eyes and slammed the door shut behind them. They got their bags out of the boot, and the car sped off.

If lifts hadn’t been invented, Bakura probably would have offed himself just to spite the gods for bringing him back to a world where he had to climb eighteen flights of stairs with almost as many bags just to get into his apartment.

Thankfully, lifts did exist, so there was no need, and he was able to get up to the penthouse Malik paid for with his leftover Ghoul profits with as little effort as possible.

Malik sighed and dropped onto the couch, leaving his bags on the floor, and kicked off his heels. “That was nice.”

“Easy for you to say.” Bakura dropped his own bags, one more carefully than the others, and stretched. His back popped. “Damn it, being brought back in modern times was meant to mean I wouldn’t have to carry all this shit.”

“No, it was meant to mean you could afford to buy this shit, honey.” Malik leaned his head on the couch cushions to look up at Bakura. “Shampoo used to be a luxury, right? We got that bottle for a thousand yen.”

“Yeah, and I could pick up a bottle for sixty.”

“But then your hair wouldn’t be as soft,” Malik whined.

“You’re such a brat.” Bakura picked up one of the bags and handed it to Malik. “Here. A fuck-your-dad present.”

Malik blinked a few times but slowly took the bag. His lips were thin. “I didn’t want a birthday present.”

“It’s not. It’s a fuck-your-dad present.” Bakura smirked and dropped onto the couch next to Malik. “Just like your first eyeshadow palette was.”

Malik hummed, but carefully took out the box from within. It was small with a few holes punched into it. Malik’s eyes widened. He knew what it was before he even opened it. “Bakura…” He pried the box lid open and peered inside.

A tiny golden face butted into his nose and mewed.

“I figured even if you want to be alone for the night, you could cuddle this little girl.” Bakura shrugged, purposely not looking at Malik. He definitely hadn’t been planning it for months, working out with Rishid which animal was suitable for a pet and Malik’s favourite, slowly buying and stashing toys and things so Malik wouldn’t get suspicious the day he finally bought one. Nope, not Bakura.

Malik’s breath shook as he slowly traced his finger over the kitten’s head. She whined and shrank back a touch.

“She’ll come out soon on her own. I think we just-”

Malik put the box down and threw his arms around Bakura. “I can’t believe you got me a cat!”

Bakura returned the hug, careful to keep his arms no higher than Malik’s waist. His shoulder was damp. He kissed the top of Malik’s head. “What do you want to name her?”

Malik smiled and nuzzled into him, turning his head to look out at the cat. His cheeks were lightly stained with tears. “I was thinking Nardle.”

Bakura laughed. “After Doctor Who? I thought you hated that crap.”

“Oh shut up, she’s your cat too.” Malik curled into him.

Nardle mewed up at them from her box and Bakura took a small toy out from the bag to try goading her out. After five or ten minutes, she climbed out of the box and crawled across the floor to the couch. Too nervous to get up on her own, she cried until Malik scooped her into his arms, and she nuzzled into them.

“I love her,” Malik whispered, tickling behind Nardle’s ear. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Bakura kissed the side of Malik’s head. “So…” He traced the curve of Malik’s hip with his thumb. “Want to crack open that cherry vodka and watch Die Hard?”

Malik snorted. “Sure. But we take a drink every time Alan Rickman shows up and every time something fucking unbelievable happens.”

“Deal. We’re going to be hammered.” Bakura reached into another bag and pulled out the cherry vodka they’d picked up earlier. “I’ll get glasses-”

“Why bother?” Malik grinned. “Just put on Netflix and we’ll drink from the bottle.”

Bakura chuckled, shaking his head. “Whatever you say.” He turned on the TV and they drank their way through Die Hard. Around halfway through the film, Nardle jumped down from their laps to explore the apartment. By the time the credits rolled, Malik and Bakura were giggling with only a few drops of vodka left.

“That film is so fucking stupid,” Malik laughed, head falling back on Bakura’s shoulder. “That blond guy should have died so many times.”

“Next time we should drink every time he should have died.”

“If we do that, we’ll be dead.”

“True enough.” Bakura held the bottle over his mouth, draining the very end of the vodka. Malik caught his chin and pulled him down to steal the taste from his mouth.

Bakura groaned, leaning into the kiss. Malik tangled his fingers in Bakura’s hair and tugged, sucking Bakura’s lower lip between his teeth. He pulled back slowly, smiling.

Bakura opened his eyes again, staring at Malik. “What’s going on?” He murmured. Malik’s smile faded. “You’re drinking to avoid thinking and you’re hanging out with people by choice today.”

Malik shook his head. “I wanted to.”

Bakura hummed and licked his lips. “You never want to on your birthday.”

Malik flinched and pulled Bakura closer again. “I don’t want to think about it. That’s why.” He brushed his lips over Bakura’s. “Now how about we go to bed and you tear this dress off me.”

That sounded good. Gods, that sounded really good. Malik kissed Bakura’s neck, sucked marks onto his throat. Bakura moaned, head falling back, and he hitched his hips up. “Fuck, Mal…” He forced his eyes open. “Mal, no- stop.”

Malik lifted himself up, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re drunk,” Bakura breathed. “And your back always hurts after sex.”

“That’s a problem for tomorrow Malik.”

“Yeah, but you’ll still have to deal with it.” Bakura traced his thumb over Malik’s cheekbone. “I don’t want you to be hurt.”

Malik huffed. “And I want to fuck you.”

Bakura paused. “I have an idea.” He grabbed Malik’s hand and led him to the bedroom. He made sure Nardle wasn’t in the room first, then he closed the door and sat Malik down on the bed. He knelt, pulling Malik’s tights down. Malik watched with lidded eyes as Bakura stripped and grabbed the lube.

“Allow me.” He took the lube from Bakura as his partner climbed into Malik’s lap.

Bakura grinned and plucked a kiss from Malik’s ruby lips. “How could I refuse?”

“You can’t.” Malik squeezed the lube over his fingers, the skirt of his dress up around his waist. He eased a finger into Bakura, biting his neck again to distract him.

Gods, that made half the blood in his body rush to his cock, and the other half followed the first when Malik added a second finger and pressed against his prostate. He gasped, grinding his hips down as pleasure jolted through his body.

Malik hummed and bit his neck again. “You were so good earlier. You didn’t even complain too much about Atem being there.” He pressed his fingers up again, spreading them apart. “I just want to reward you for that.”

Bakura gasped, back arching. “Fuck!”

“Mm.” Malik nipped up his throat. He added a third finger and spread them again.

“Enough!” Bakura shifted his hips. “Come- ahh! Come on, Malik! I’m fine!”

“I think one more could help.” Malik nuzzled Bakura’s throat with his nose. “After all, we don’t want you sore tomorrow either, right?” He smiled.

“Damn you!” Bakura squeezed his eyes shut as Malik slipped his smallest finger in. “Damn you, damn you, damn you!” His cock throbbed, aching for Malik’s hand around it instead of teasing his ass. “If you’re going to do this, fucking commit to it!”

Malik pulled back a touch, staring at Bakura. “Yeah? Want me to fist you?” His eyes shone in the dim light from the street and the lamps by their bed. “Think you can handle it?”

“Your dick’s bigger.” Bakura cracked one eye open to meet Malik’s gaze. “Fuck me!”

“You’re such a whiny bottom.” Malik pulled out his fingers to add more lube, and then eased them all in one by one.

Bakura clutched Malik’s shoulders, clinging to him as he rode Malik’s fist. His mouth hung open, a low string of moans escaping him. Malik’s curled knuckles pressed right into his prostate and his toes curled. Malik gripped Bakura’s hips, holding him still as he thrust his clenched fist into him.

Bakura’s brain felt fogged, and he struggled to keep his eyes open, to keep them on Malik. Heat burned in his stomach, tightening, and he clenched around Malik’s fist. “Fuck, Malik- Malik, stop- I-I-I-”

Malik eased his fist out and Bakura slumped on his shoulder, panting for breath. Malik wiped his hand clean with tissue paper and smoothed Bakura’s hair back from his sweaty face, peppering his forehead with kisses. “You okay?”

“Yeah… Yeah, just… fuck…” Bakura took a few slow breaths, shaking from being pulled back from the very edge. “Damn…” He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d asked Malik to fist him, but fuck him if it wasn’t a good idea. Or fuck him if it was.

Bakura grabbed the lube again and dumped a bit into his hand, spreading it over Malik’s cock. Malik gasped and hitched his hips up, but Bakura pulled his hand away. “Damn it, Bakura-”

“Trust me.” Bakura stole another kiss. “My ass will feel so much better than my hand.”

Malik scowled but didn’t object as Bakura positioned himself over his cock. Bakura gripped Malik’s dick and slowly eased down on it, head falling onto Malik’s shoulder again.

“Fuck…”

“Mm, fuck you’re still so tight.” Malik groaned as Bakura clenched around him.

“Told you your dick was bigger than your fist,” Bakura snorted. He moved to balance his weight on Malik’s shoulder and rolled his hips. “Fuck.”

“You said that already.” Malik grabbed Bakura’s hair and pulled to give him enough room to bite Bakura’s neck. “Are you going to let me fuck you at all?”

“Mm, nope.” Bakura gave Malik a lazy smirk as he got used to the feeling of Malik’s cock inside him again. “You get to relax and do sweet fuck all while I fuck myself on your dick tonight. Sound good?”

Malik grinned and nodded in agreement. “Definitely.”

“Good.” Bakura began rolling his hips faster and pulled his knees up onto the mattress so he could ease his way up to bouncing on Malik’s cock. The position change shot pleasure through him with every drop and he groaned, moving faster. “Fuck, Malik-”

Malik pulled him down, slamming their lips together. “That’s right,” he murmured, nipping Bakura’s lip. “Fuck yourself for me.”

“Ah!” Bakura whined against Malik’s lips. “Malik…”

“You’re such a slut for me.” Malik toyed with Bakura’s earlobe, an odd mix of ticklish and fucking good. “Go faster.”

Bakura happily obliged, allowing Malik to guide his hips up and down, up and down and upanddownandup-

“Touch me!”

Malik’s eyes shone. “Beg,” he suggested, as though it really were an option at that point, “and I might.”

“Please, Malik!” Bakura shouted. “Fuck, please, touch me!”

Malik wrapped his hand around Bakura’s cock, jerking in time - or as much as he could - to Bakura’s rhythm.

“Fuck, Malik, Malik, Malik!” Bakura cried. His hips jerked and he came over Malik’s hand and chest, jaw low in a loud moan.

Malik gripped Bakura’s hips tighter as Bakura clenched around him and he guided him to move again for another minute until Malik came inside him. “Fuck, Bakura!”

Bakura groaned, head dropping onto Malik’s shoulder. “Tired.”

Malik nodded in agreement, breath short. “We should- fuck, we should shower-”

Bakura shook his head. “Tired,” he repeated. He leaned over to the bedside table, stretching for the wipes. Malik eased out of him as he grabbed them and Bakura used them to clean both of them up. “Take off your dress.”

Malik grinned. “Sounds like something you should have said earlier,” he said, but he obliged.

Bakura shifted and carefully wiped the sweat off Malik’s back and scars. Malik relaxed and once Bakura threw the wipes to the side, he climbed into bed. “Coming?”

Bakura groaned and nodded. “Lemme just feed Nardle first.” He hopped off the bed and grabbed the foodbowl from the press, filling it with kibble and another bowl with water.

Nardle was in the midst of exploring the television, but she came running when she heard the food being poured. Bakura grinned and scratched behind her ears as she buried her face in the food.

He pulled her bed out of the bag, tore off the tag, and left it by the couch with his t-shirt inside. Apparently it helped young animals to familiarise themselves with smells. Then he dashed into the bedroom, closed the door, and clambered into bed with Malik. Malik wrapped his arms around Bakura, pulling him closer, and Bakura shivered. He pressed his feet to Malik’s thighs.

Malik shrieked and kicked him away. “Bakura! Your feet are fucking ice!”

“I’m cold!” Bakura tried to nuzzle closer to Malik.

“Get your feet away from me, fucking Horus!”

“I’m not Horus, I’m Bakura.” Bakura managed to worm his way back into Malik’s embrace, though he kept his feet away this time.

Malik huffed and flicked Bakura’s ear, but leaned into him. “You’re such a fucking menace. I should have left you to rot in Ammit’s stomach.”

“Should have, could have, would have.” Bakura beamed up at Malik almost as sweetly as Ryou. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“Not if I kill you.”

“Yeah but then you’d definitely join me in Ammit’s stomach, and then you’d be stuck with me for eternity.”

Malik sighed and closed his eyes. “Damn it, you have a point.”

“I know. I’m brilliant.” Bakura nuzzled into Malik’s side. “Now get some sleep.”

“Asshole.”

“You love me.”

Bakura felt the smile on his forehead as Malik kissed him more than he saw it. “Yeah, maybe a little.”

* * *

Bakura woke up to the glorious smell of bacon cooking shortly after noon the next day. He stumbled to the bathroom to piss, shook his dick off, and tucked it away again before making his way out to the kitchen. Nardle was wandering around Malik’s ankles, screaming for a piece of bacon that Malik refused to give her. Malik, meanwhile, had some English pop song that Bakura didn’t quite understand playing in the background.

“Don’t go wasting your emotions,” Malik sang, “Lay all your love ooon me…” His hips swung in small circles beneath a bathrobe.

Bakura walked up behind him and put his hands on Malik’s waist, kissing his shoulder. “Morning.”

Malik glanced back at him with a small smile. “Morning, honey. I’ve made some of your heretic food, and there’s coffee in the pot.”

“Great, thank you.” Bakura added another kiss and took the plate that Malik offered him.

“You badly hungover?”

“Nah.” Bakura shook his head. “Craving grease though.” He was realistically craving a heart attack on a plate, and that was exactly what Malik had handed him. Bacon, pancakes, fried rice, and eggs with a coffee full of sugar, just how Bakura liked it. He took a large gulp of coffee before shoveling eggs into his mouth.

Malik wrinkled his nose as he sat across from Bakura with his vegetable fried rice and coffee with honey and soy. “Can you calm down? You’re not starving.”

“Fuck you, yes I am.” Bakura took another defiant bite.

Malik grinned at him. “I already did last night.”

Bakura flipped him off and swallowed. “What are we doing today?”

Malik sighed and took a much smaller bite of his food. “Ryou text me last night to invite us over for lunch, but I didn’t see it until an hour ago, so that’s out. But we can go over tonight for that film.”

“Sounds good.” Bakura dropped a corner of bacon onto the floor and Nardle pounced on it.

“Damn it, Bakura!” Malik frowned. “She’s not meant to eat anything but her kibble!”

“She’ll be fine.” Bakura rolled his eyes but ate the rest of his food without conveniently knocking any off his plate. “Until then?”

Malik smiled. “I need to work for a few hours.” Ah yes, the translating gig Malik had. “Besides, you should probably do something too.”

Bakura huffed. “I don’t want to be productive. I want to be a slob and play video games all day.”

Malik smiled and took Bakura’s hand, pulling it up to his mouth and kissing his knuckles. “Be productive and we can relax until New Year, yeah?”

Bakura glanced at him. “That does sound promising…” He clucked his tongue. “But you’re going to convince me to be productive by the day after Boxing Day, aren’t you?”

“No! Of course not!” Malik grinned with his teeth. “Come on, we’ll get something done.”

“Fine.” Bakura poured himself another mug of coffee and dumped three cubes of sugar into it. “I’ll work on my dissertation if you lay off me for the next few days.”

“Deal.” Malik leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Come on, honey - working sprint.”

Bakura groaned but let Malik drag him over to the office, where they sat at two different desks and worked for a few hours until it was an acceptable time to wander over to the mansion. They showered - separately, to avoid distractions - and changed into more acceptable clothes. Bakura wore his ugliest Christmas sweater - a navy Grinch sweater with Merry Fucking Whatever stitched across it - while Malik picked out a purple plaid skirt and a black turtleneck with boots.

Ryou opened the door for them, his hair painted with colourful chalk dyes of red, green and blue. “Happy Christmas!” He beamed.

“You too, you little nerd.” Bakura thrust a paper bag of wrapped gifts into Ryou’s arms. “Here you go.”

Malik smiled and hugged Ryou properly, kissing his cheek. “Merry Christmas, honey.” He pulled back a touch, smile growing. “Your beard is starting to come in more.”

“Mhm! The doctors fixed my testosterone dosage.” Ryou winked. “Come on - everyone’s inside.”

“Everyone?” Bakura scowled. “Don’t tell me-”

“Everyone.”

“Mehi?” Malik frowned a touch, but more worried than annoyed.

“Be nice.” Ryou pointed at him. “She’s doing her best and she’s in pain. She only got back from Thailand a few days ago.”

Malik hummed and looked away. “Yeah, okay.” Every time he and Mehi saw one another, things got a little easier between them, a little more civil, but it was still touch-and-go at the best of times.

Bakura stretched. “You’d better have some fucking alcohol ready to go,” he said before walking past Ryou into the theatre room. “Merry Christmas, mothers and fuckers.”

Mehi flipped him off from where she was lying on the couch, but she was grinning. “Good to see you too, asshole.” Her hair was longer and curled around her shoulders, and she was wrapped in a cute purple Christmas sweater beneath several blankets.

“You too, bitch.” Bakura plopped onto the armchair near her. Mehi was taking up the whole couch, burritoed in a blanket with two pillows under her head. Atem was on the one opposite her in a similar position.

Meanwhile, Ryou dropped into Seto’s lap on one of the recliners, and Malik slid onto the chair with Bakura. Mai and Miho were curled up in a nest of blankets on the floor. Jou, Honda, Shizuka, and Mokuba were all dotted around the rest of the theatre on beanbags and chairs, chatting and snacking on popcorn or sweets. The fire in the old marble fireplace lit the room dimly alongside strings of fairylights, probably set up for Malik and Mehi’s benefit.

Mehi brightened a touch when she saw Malik. “Hey, akh’.”

Malik’s expression softened a touch and Bakura wrapped an arm around him, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Hey. You look good, ‘ukht. How are you?”

Mehi’s smile grew and she nodded. “Hurts like a bitch but I feel a lot better.”

Atem… did not look better. If the previous day was one of his better days, that day was one of his worse. His gaze was unfocused and he hardly seemed capable of doing more than talking to Yugi.

“What film are we watching?” Bakura asked to diffuse any arguments before they could even begin.

“Miracle on 34th Street first of all, and then we’ll see how things go.” Ryou grinned and picked up the remote. A screen more than half the size of the fucking wall lit up, already queued up and ready to play the movie in question.

Bakura curled into Malik and pulled the fluffiest blanket he could get his hands on up around them as it started before tossing out presents to everyone. He hadn’t necessarily planned on everyone showing up, but it was the nerd herd, and with the exception of anyone out of the country like Anzu or Noah, they tended to appear on events like Christmas because Ryou was far too good to say no to them and Seto enabled Ryou at every turn.

He didn’t hand Malik one. Nardle was the only birthday or fuck-your-father gift Malik was getting, and as for Christmas presents, Bakura would sort him out the next day. However, the others seemed to have the same idea, so the first half hour or so was occupied by opening presents.

Malik ended up with some more gold and a few cat toys, Ryou got a bunch of figurines, Yugi and Atem got cards full of money to try to help cover payments as well as a few small things, Mehi got new shirts and bras as a nod to her top surgery, Mai and Miho got some books and stuffed toys, and Bakura got punny t-shirts and a snake stuffed toy.

After Miracle on 34th Street, they watched Die Hard with Malik and Bakura playing their drinking game again and pulling everyone but Atem and Mehi into it, then I’ll Be Home for Christmas, and finally Klaus. By that stage, Bakura was dozing off on Malik’s shoulder, and Atem was gone for the count.

When the film ended, Ryou rubbed his eyes and offered everyone beds for the night, but Malik shook his head. “We’re not far away,” he said. “We’ll just go home.” He kissed the top of Bakura’s head and gently shook him awake. “Thank you for the night, honey.” He bowed his head to Ryou.

Ryou smiled at him. “You’re always welcome.” He glanced around. “Anyone want to stay? We can arrange lifts home now or in the morning.”

As everyone gave their various answers, Bakura dragged himself from the clutches of sleep and staggered to his feet.

Malik leaned down and kissed the top of Mehi’s head. “You really do look great, ‘ukht,” he said. “This suits you.”

Mehi beamed and carefully wrapped an arm around his shoulders to hug him. She had slimmed down, lost a lot of bulky muscle with her HRT, but she was gaining a little weight with her inability to exercise much. “Thanks, akh’. Merry Christmas.”

“You too.” Malik gave her a light squeeze and handed her a present. A second one - small and flat. “I know this is difficult right now, but I love you.”

Mehi hesitated but opened the present and stared. A passport and ID card, covered by a purple cover with MEHI stamped on it, a feather, and a Leo sign (Mehi had chosen July 3rd as her birthday, it being the day she was brought back).

This would take a minute. Bakura pulled out his phone and ordered a Lyft.

“I know you were struggling to get something in your new name so I sorted it.” Malik squeezed her shoulder.

Mehi opened the passport. A photo of herself stared up at her, with her signature, her full name - Mehi Nimr - and a big F as her gender marker. “Malik…” She pulled him down for another hug, squeezing tighter. “Thank you. I love it.”

Malik smiled. “You’re welcome.” He kissed her forehead again. “Sleep well, ukht’. Don’t push yourself too much.”

“I’m pretty sure Ryou would kill me if I tried.” Mehi smiled at him. “Go home and sleep. Merry Christmas.”

“You too.” Malik slowly released her and bade everyone farewell while Bakura gave a non-committal grunt.

Atem jerked awake and turned his head, staring around the room. “Oh, are we starting?”

Yugi’s smile grew a touch strained and he squeezed Atem’s hand. “We’re all tired so we decided to sleep,” he said gently.

Atem frowned. “I thought we were watching a Christmas movie.”

“We already did, Atem, remember?”

“No we didn’t.”

“We did. We watched Miracle on 34th Street and-”

“No, we didn’t!” Atem was frowning and his eyes looked wet. “We- we only got here- we-”

“Sh, it’s okay.” Yugi wrapped his arms around Atem and squeezed. “You’re right, I messed up. That was last night. Come on, we’re tired. We can watch something tomorrow.” Atem looked happier and he pressed into the hug. Yugi met Bakura’s gaze and just as Bakura was about to ask if he needed help, Yugi shook his head. ‘Go,’ he mouthed. ‘I have this.’

Bakura nodded and pulled Malik out of the room. Their Lyft was waiting outside for them and they climbed in, slumping into one another.

“That was nice,” Malik mumbled. “I didn’t think Mehi and I would get along so well again.”

“Me neither,” Bakura admitted. He sighed and looked up. “Think we should have gotten Atem something other than bullshit notes for his bills?”

“Aw, you care about him.” Malik nuzzled the top of Bakura’s head. “No, Yugi’s struggling to make end’s meet at the moment and he won’t take straight up charity, so this is the best way to do it.”

“True.” Bakura let his eyes slip closed. “He’s getting worse.”

“I’ll give Yugi my therapist’s number again,” Malik sighed. “Are you okay?”

“Of course.” Bakura shook his head. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Malik held him closer. “Because Atem’s dying.”

Bakura snorted. “You say that like it’s something I should be sad about.” He looked out the window. “I spent my whole life trying to kill him, give or take the past ten years and six years when I was a kid. Sixteen out of over three thousand isn’t a lot.”

“Still.” Malik gave him a gentle squeeze.

Bakura shook his head again. “He’s Pharaoh Atem the first of Kemet. He oversaw several wars and six years of peace in his short reign, and yet poverty was rampant under his rule and he did nothing to stop it.” He took a shaky breath. “He never apologised. He never even looked for the source of his magic, and even when I tried to tell him, he never fucking listened. Could I have found a better way to tell him? Maybe. But I had to show him how it fucking felt. And now-” Bakura grit his teeth. “And now he gets fucking cancer.”

Malik rubbed Bakura’s arm gently. He didn’t speak. Not yet.

“It’s not fair,” Bakura whispered. “He- he doesn’t get to do this! He’s already hurt so many people, and now he gets to do it to Ryou and Mai and Yugi and- and I shouldn’t fucking care but I do!” He twisted to bury his face in Malik’s stomach and screamed.

The driver glanced back, but it was muffled, so he didn’t comment.

Malik ran his fingers through Bakura’s hair. “He’s in pain.”

“That’s the worst part. I don’t want him to be.” Bakura sniffed. “It’s fucking bullshit.”

“I know.” Malik hugged him closer. “I know, habib. ‘Ana ‘asfu. ‘Uhbik.”

Bakura swiped at his eyes until they stung. “The gods are fucking bastards, and if I hadn’t seen them, I wouldn’t believe in them. I’m tempted not to believe in them out of fucking spite. He was a child. I was too, and you. We all fucking were. They made children play their game of fate and kill for them, and now, we’re dying. First Atem, then who?” He shook his head. “I can’t watch more people die.”

“We don’t have a choice.” Malik closed his eyes. “It’s a fact.” He kissed the top of Bakura’s head, hard. “But I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not letting you go either.”

Bakura just nuzzled closer. “After all this time, I don’t want him to die. I don’t want to be the only one left.”

At heart, he really was just a selfish bastard. He didn’t want to be the only one - the only one who remembered the cold desert nights and too-hot mornings, the sky being brighter than it could possibly be anymore, the old language and the days where beer tasted good instead of watered down piss you drank for the sake of getting drunk cheap. He wanted to have someone who matched his scars - who had scars he’d given in return for ones he’d received.

He looked down. His sweater was long-sleeved, but his moving around in Malik’s arms had caused it to crumple just enough. Thick, rough scars lined his wrists like bracelets. Atem had put those cuffs on Bakura himself - fastened them, locked them too tight. The arrow in his shoulder. The slit on his chest. The star on his left hand, almost mirroring the one on his right from Ryou - the time he’d stabbed through Bakura’s hand to pin him down.

Bakura had paid him back. The stab wound in his neck, and chest, and leg. The slash on his arm, and the wound on the back of his head from where he’d hit it against the wall in an explosion caused by Bakura. They were all proof that Bakura wasn’t fucking insane, and if Atem went, so did they.

“I know, habib.” Malik buried his face in Bakura’s hair. “We still have time. Stage three isn’t certain - Seto could find something.” He kissed him again, and again, and again. “We just have to… have to pray.”

Bakura closed his eyes. “Damn them… They don’t care…” He sniffled and rubbed his nose on the arm of his sweater. “They’ll watch Atem die and welcome him with open arms to Aaru like it was all part of their master plan.”

“You’ll see him again. You’ll see them all again.”

“I know.” Bakura heaved a sigh. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have dumped all that on you.” Not right now.

“Don’t.”

“That’s what my therapist is fucking for.”

“Hey. I still want to help. I want to know what’s going on.” Malik squeezed him. “Just because I’m paying for two therapists doesn’t mean I can’t listen to you too.”

Bakura snorted, but it was weak and shaky. When he’d collected himself enough to speak without his voice breaking, he looked up at Malik. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Malik dragged his hand through his hair. “I’m fine. I just…”

Bakura nodded and the rest of the car ride was spent in silence. Once they got to their apartment, Malik pulled off his turtleneck and undershirt and lay stomach-down on the bed.

Bakura paused to knock his shoes off before joining Malik and blowing cool air on his scars. Malik hummed in appreciation, his eyes slipping closed. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“No worries.” Bakura lay next to him on his side, back to Malik. After a minute, Malik slid into place as the big spoon, his arms around Bakura. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. I’m just tired.” Malik rested his forehead against Bakura’s shoulder. “I’m… I want to be happy.” He squeezed his eyes shut, and Bakura felt tears on his back. “I’m trying. I’m just- It’s not working. I’m so tired of this PTSD bullshit and I want to celebrate something and not have to fucking mourn every goddamn December.”

“I know.” Bakura traced his thumb over Malik’s knuckles. “I know, love.”

Malik let out a shuddering sigh; a sigh that turned into a sob. Another sob, another, another. “I hate this.” He shook against Bakura, curling tighter into him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry I’m not better.”

“It’s not your fault.” Bakura turned and kissed Malik’s arm. “Never apologise for this, Mal. Never.”

Malik sniffed and burrowed his face between Bakura’s shoulder blades. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I love you so much.” Malik held him tighter until he fell asleep. Bakura slept too, but fitfully, and he woke whenever Malik had a nightmare to soothe him until the morning sun peaked through their curtains, and Bakura fell into a deeper sleep alongside Malik.

* * *

Bakura woke first on Christmas morning, so he carefully untangled himself from Malik, tucked him into the duvet, and wandered into the kitchen to make breakfast. Nardle whined pitifully at his feet and wound around his ankles.

“God damn, give me half a fucking minute.” Bakura scowled and carefully picked his way to the counter to grab Nardle’s food to avoid stepping on her. He successfully poured kibble into the food bowl and refilled her water.

Satsified, Nardle dug into her breakfast while Bakura started on his and Malik’s.

He made sure to stay quiet as he worked, tiptoeing around the apartment as he decorated the last of the areas to surprise him. Once he had finished, he crept into the bedroom and jumped onto the bed.

“Bakura!” Malik shrieked and hit Bakura with a pillow. “What the fuck?” 

Bakura laughed and wrapped his arms around Malik. “Merry Christmas!”

“Damn it, Bakura! You nearly gave me a fucking heart attack!” Malik put a hand over his chest and squeezed his eyes shut. 

“You love me anyway.” Bakura nuzzled into him, grinning. “Come on. I made breakfast.”

Malik peeled open his eyes to give Bakura an extremely sceptical look. “Really? You got up early to make breakfast?”

“I’ve done it before.” Bakura frowned at him. “Come on. My bacon is going cold.”

Malik groaned but allowed Bakura to drag him out of bed. “You’d better have not just made meat, honey.”

“I would never-” Bakura paused. Okay, it would be kind of funny. “I didn’t.” He led Malik out to the living area and beamed as Malik stared.

He’d outdone himself. The tree and lights were already done, but Bakura had pulled out their coffee table and covered it with a white tablecloth dotted by golden stars. Red napkins were folded under gold plates, ladden with sweets that would probably even sate Ryou. Red velvet cake with ‘Merry Christmas’ traced in gold, cupcakes, crisps, sweets, popcorn. Two full plates of breakfast food were laid closer to the couch - fried rice, quorn bacon and real bacon, tofu sausages and real sausages, toast, waffles, and pancakes. A fresh pot of coffee sat on a coaster between the plates, next to two gold mugs.

Bakura had also strung up more fairylights on the roof and turned them on. They reflected like stars in Malik’s eyes. Nardle was sniffing at the food, but she was on the couch, not the table, so it was fine.

Malik wrapped his arms around Bakura’s waist and squeezed. “It’s beautiful,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

Bakura twisted to kiss Malik’s cheek. “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

Malik hummed and nuzzled Bakura’s neck for a moment, nibbled, and then released him. “Sounds good.”

Bakura climbed onto the couch, curling up in the corner, feet underneath his body. He turned on the television as Malik lay into him. “Nightmare Before Christmas?” Bakura suggested.

“Sure.” Malik shook his head. “Why not?” He pulled his plate into his lap and began eating as Bakura queued up the film on Netflix. Nardle climbed into Malik’s lap.

Once it was playing, Bakura poured coffee and they ate, providing light commentary on the film when the mood struck them. When it eventually ended, Bakura untangled himself from Malik and dove under the tree. 

“Here! Present!” He tossed a box at Malik’s head.

Malik caught it, but he had to stretch for it and he disrupted Nardle as he did so. She whined and jumped from his lap to the floor.

“Sorry, baby!” Malik called, but Nardle didn’t seem to care all too much. Malik looked at the package Bakura had thrown him and opened it. 

As he did so, Bakura watched out of the corner of his eye as he pretended to search for one of his own gifts. He had wrapped all of Malik’s presents in gold paper. That particular one was smaller than most, but hopefully he would like it.

Malik opened his presents with as much diligence as possible, careful not to rip anything unnecessarily. His first was inside a box - velvet blue. Bakura looked away as Malik eased it open.

Inside, a necklace would be resting on a blue cushion - a gold sunflower. Malik would open it, and inside would be a tiny circle with ‘you are my sunshine’ carved into it.

“Bakura,” Malik whispered, right on cue, and then he was on the floor beside Bakura, arms around him. “I love it.” His voice cracked.

Bakura smiled and returned the hug. “I wanted to make sure you had some nice jewellery for days you weren’t feeling up to wearing your regular gold,” he admitted quietly. “Or at least better quality than that Daiso bullshit Jou got you.”

Malik squeezed him tighter with a tiny laugh. “At least he’s trying.” He pulled back with a gentle smile. “Want to help me put it on?”

“Of course.” 

Bakura turned and took the chain from Malik, fastening it around his neck. It settled beautifully between his collarbones. Malik smiled down at it before picking up a present wrapped in red and handed it to Bakura. “Here.”

Bakura snorted as he took it. “Did we really wrap gifts in one another’s favourite fucking colours?”

“Guess so.” Malik grinned. “Come on, the rest you can pick out on your own, but I want you to open this first.”

Bakura raised his eyebrows but tore the wrapping off. He went about it the exact opposite way to Malik - he ripped it to shreds, even when he didn’t need to anymore. Inside the shell of paper remaining was a box similar to what he had given Malik - red velvet instead of blue.

He pulled it open and stared. Another necklace - one he had come across online, only better. It was tiny and circular, with a glass piece in the middle. When Bakura held it up to his eye, he could see inside. It was like he was surrounded by black with golden-light words carved into the shadows.

“It means I love you,” Malik said slowly, “in-”

“Every language we know,” Bakura whispered. It wasn’t just I love you. It was dates - when they met, when Bakura came back, when they first fucked, when they first kissed. Names of movies they saw together. Coordinates. Everything. Bakura swiped at his eye roughly and fastened the chain around his neck. “I love it. I love you.”

“I know.” Malik smiled. “That was kind of the point of the necklace.”

“Damn it, shut up.” Bakura pulled Malik closer and pressed their lips together. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” Malik’s smile grew until it broke their kiss, and their lips were bumping more than kissing. “Wait, actually, I have one more thing I want you to open first.” He leaned back to pluck something out of the tree. This one wasn’t wrapped, but it was the same type of red velvet box as Bakura’s necklace. “I… I love you and all your stupid Bakura things. I love the way you bitch about me eating fake meat, but you make me quorn and tofu anyway. And the way you talk over films, and put up lights for me. You drive me insane, fucking arguing all the time and putting your toothbrush on my toilet lid, and you bought me a cat to try and cheer me up on a day that no one could, and it worked.” Malik looked away. “And I don’t want to lose you again.”

“Malik?” Bakura’s breath was short.

“I know this is stupid and won’t necessarily stop us from losing one another, and we feasibly can't be together forever, because forever is way too good to be true, but… I still want to be with you forever, Bakura. I’m tired of being sad all the time, and you… you make me happy. I love you.” Malik took a slow, deep breath. “I guess this is just a really long-winded way of saying…” He opened the box. “Will you marry me, Bakhure?”

Bakura stared. The ring was gold and thick, like his old ones, with a ruby embedded in the center. “Yes.” It was like he didn’t speak the word himself, so he said it a few more times to be certain. “Yes, yes, yes, fucking hell yes!” 

“Yes?”

“Yes!” Bakura threw his arms around Malik. He was shaking. Why was he shaking, damn it? 

Malik was holding Bakura too tightly, face hidden in Bakura’s messy, uncombed hair. “Gods, I love you.”

Bakura lifted and plucked the ring from the box, fitting it on his ring finger with a grin. “I love you too.” He leaned in and pressed their lips together.

Malik moaned and returned the kiss, but quickly broke it to kiss down Bakura’s jaw and neck, grazing his teeth over the sensitive skin. Bakura shivered and pulled him closer, hands sliding up Malik’s thighs.

Malik hummed and sucked his neck, fighting Bakura’s dark skin to leave purple marks. 

“Fuck!” Bakura’s eyes snapped shut and he threw his head back. “Oh, fuck!” The sharp pleasure went straight to his dick and he hitched his hips. He reached back and tugged his hair free of its band, letting it spill over his shoulders.

Malik pushed Bakura down onto the plus carpet and ran his hands over Bakura’s uncovered chest. “Have I ever mentioned how happy I am that you only wear boxers to bed?” He purred, running his thumbs over Bakura’s nipples.

Bakura groaned, arching his back. “Yes… but you could stand to say it more.”

“I’m delighted by it.” Malik leaned down to suck one of Bakura’s nipples, twisting the other between his thumb and forefinger.

Bakura bit his lip, grabbing the back of Malik’s head. He kept his grip loose, so as not to trigger his sensory issues, but hard enough to keep Malik going. For a while. Malik rewarded his looser grip with a tug of Bakura’s shining hair, and a sharp twist of his nipple.

“Fuck!” Bakura arched under him. “More!”

All too soon, Malik was abandoning his chest to kiss down Bakura’s belly, more rounded now that he didn’t have to survive off a meager meal a day (sometimes less) or fight for his life. He hummed and slipped his thumbs into Bakura’s boxers. “I think these need to come off, don’t you?”

Bakura hitched his hips in response, and Malik dragged his boxers down his legs. He was already hard, and Malik teased his tip with the pads of his fingers. Bakura’s mouth dropped and his head fell back onto the carpet, hair spreading around him. 

“Gods alive, you’re gorgeous,” Malik breathed, staring down at Bakura.

Bakura cracked one eye open and grinned at Malik. “Hell yes I am.”

“And conceited.” Malik fumbled for the small bottle of lube they always left under the couch cushions. He squeezed the lube onto his fingers. “We’re running low. We should pick some up tomorrow.” 

“Mmm.” Bakura hummed in agreement as Malik teased his asshole with two slick fingers. Malik waited a moment before easing them into him, and Bakura bucked his hips. “Oh, fuck yes!”

“You have no idea how gorgeous you are,” Malik murmured. He pressed his fingers up and added a third.

“F-fuck - aaahh!” Bakura whined as Malik repeated he action. “Damn, Malik! Fuck me already!”

“I already am, no?” Malik nipped Bakura’s jaw. Bakura was struggling to focus on what he was saying, with Malik massaging his prostate. He wrapped his fingers lightly around Bakura’s cock and gave it a few light tugs.

Bakura groaned louder, gripping the carpet fibers beneath him. “You know what I mean!”

“Mm, but I’m an asshole.” Regardless, Malik soaked his cock with lube and eased into Bakura.

“Oh, fuck, Malik!” Bakura arched.

“I love seeing you so agreeable like this.” Malik rolled his hips until he was fully sheathed inside Bakura.

“Malik, I- ahh! I swear to gods-”

“You’ll what?” Malik gripped Bakura’s hair and tugged, pulling Bakura’s face up. “Get yourself off? Be my guest, but I don’t think you will with the way you’re clenching around me.”

“Asshole!” Bakura clutched Malik’s shoulders.

Malik smirked and jerked his hips, thrusting into Bakura’s prostate. Bakura bit his lip, muffling a half-scream. Malik dipped to press their lips together, swallowing Bakura’s moans as he thrust into Bakura.

“You okay?” He asked after a second, panting.

“I’d be much better if you fucked me properly.” Bakura met Malik’s gaze, eyes lidded and glazed.

Malik smirked and nipped Bakura’s lip, a reprimand for the sass, and then he picked up his pace, harder, faster. Bakura’s cheeks grew ruddy as pleading moans tumbled from his mouth. Malik shifted and lifted Bakura’s hips, and the next noise to escape Bakura’s mouth was a scream.

“Malik!” Bakura’s eyes snapped shut, and he bit his hand. The apartment was relatively sound-proof, but they’d learned the hard way that if they were loud enough, the downstairs neighbours could hear them. 

Malik grabbed Bakura’s wrist and pulled his hand away from his mouth. His hand fit perfectly around the thick scar on Bakura’s wrist, covering it. “Not today,” he insisted. “Fuck them if they hear you.”

“Malik,” Bakura groaned, “touch me!”

Malik propped himself up on his forearm. He had to slow down to manage it, his right hand releasing Bakura’s wrist so he could wrap his hand around Bakura’s cock. Bakura grabbed the carpet above his head, bucking into Malik’s fist.

“Fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop!” 

Malik had no intention of stopping. He sped up to the best of his ability.

Bakura writhed beneath him, mouth open wide, loud moans spilling out like prayers. “F-f- ah! Fuck, Malik, I-I-I-” He bit his lip, hips jerking erratically.

“Do it,” Malik whispered. “Cum for me, Bakhure.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to Malik’s. 

Bakura moaned into his mouth, hips jerking up again, and he came over his chest and Malik’s hand.

Malik grunted as Bakura clenched around him. He adjusted his position once more so he could slam into Bakura as fast as he wanted. 

Bakura’s eyes were clouded as Malik rode out his orgasm but he managed to pull himself back enough to react. “Come on.” Bakura shifted his hips and clenched around Malik purposely. “Your turn.”

“Oh, Bakhure…” Malik groaned, speeding up. A few thrusts later, he came inside Bakura and sank onto his chest.

Bakura hummed in content and ran his fingers through Malik’s hair. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Malik sighed, his eyes fluttering shut. Silence reigned over them for a few minutes until Malik looked up at Bakura. He propped his chin up on Bakura’s chest. “Did you mean it?” He asked. “You’ll marry me?”

“I wouldn’t have said yes if I didn’t mean it.” Bakura smiled at him. “Besides, I want to see you in a wedding dress.”

Malik laughed and covered his face. “Dear Seth, I can’t believe we’re doing this!” He shrieked into his hands. “We have so much to plan! Where should we do it? When? Who’s coming?”

“Everyone!” Bakura’s eyes gleamed. “Let’s go everywhere in Asia that allows gay marriage. Get married in every single fucking country. We can throw a fabulous wedding every time, put a bit of a dent in that Ghoul money you’ve collected.”

“We can’t do that.” Malik shook his head, but he was grinning. “Well, maybe a fabulous wedding.”

“Hell yes. The most fabulous wedding anyone has ever seen.” Bakura held Malik closer. “But we can sort that out later, right?”

Malik snorted and nuzzled into him. “You want to open more presents, right?”

“I want to open more presents.”

Malik only laughed harder. “Okay, okay. You put on more coffee while I take a shower and then we’ll keep going.”

“Or…” Bakura traced his thumb over Malik’s hips. “I could join you in the shower and we could make coffee when we get out.”

“Mm, you strike a hard bargain.” Malik stole a kiss from him. “Let’s go.”

“One moment.” Bakura pulled one more gold present from the tree. “Open this first. I opened two, so you have to too before we take a break.”

Malik snorted but sat up slowly and took the present. He carefully unwrapped it and stared. “Is that-?”

“I did my best.” Bakura’s face heated up and he looked away. “I’ve only seen your ka a few times, so… It’s probably not the best, but-”

Malik hugged Bakura again. “I love it.”

Bakura caught a glimpse. It was only a simple sketch of Diabound curled around Malik’s ka, a flaming lion, both napping peacefully. He hadn’t coloured it past shading for fear of messing up, but he’d framed it. It was the first thing he’d drawn after he and Malik got together. He smiled and looked up at Malik. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, nerd.” Malik nuzzled Bakura’s nose with his own. “Let’s go shower and enjoy the rest of the day.”

Bakura took Malik’s hand in his own - the one that he wore his engagement ring on. He smiled at his boyfriend- no, his fiancé. “The rest of our lives.”

Malik paused and started laughing. “Damn it, Bakura, that was so fucking cheesy!”

“Yeah, well you’re a bitch.”

“Oh fuck off, you asshole.”

Bakura’s smile grew. “Never.”


End file.
